Like you would be there to clean up the mess from your perch in the basement.

I investigated a vehicle suicide bomb attack walking through half inch thick blood and water. The bodies were unrecognizable as human, it was like hamburger helper sorting through their remains. 2 foot chunks of skin hung from the trees raining blood. The insides of the humvees that were dragged away with sparks flying off their axles were plastered with human matter. The co-worker stopped to vomit, but from his position was able to see a shadow of a three fingered hand in one of the bags the locals were carrying. I quickly went to my boss and he sent me over to investigate. Indeed it was the forearm missing three two fingers, it was exactly what we needed for fingerprinting, but who knows where it came from? It could of been from the police, it could have been from the suicide bomber who only blew himself up to save his family that was held hostage(they were probably killed anyway). Their violent deaths were indeed a tragedy and they all had meaning to me, in that it fueled my motivation to find the psychopaths that did it.

If we can clean up and investigate their mess, anyone can investigate my mess, if my body is even found. I did not expect to live this long.